Never truly sane
by KuroiTama
Summary: I look over her. Her screams stifled by the cloth between her teeth. Any other person would feel sorry for this girl. Or at least guilt for doing such a thing. However seeing her like this leaves me with a sick form of enjoyment to linger upon.


I was never truly sane

JTHM is not mine and will never be.

I hope you enjoy my short story on our beloved maniac.

I was never truly sane. Nobody really is.

We all hold our own little boll of insanity, letting it slip past us more and more with every hateful word. Coming from ourselves or anybody else. It doesn't matter, it never did. We are all weak, weak and unimportant to this world.

"You think you're special." I say as I brush my fingers through her dark blue hair, sticking to her head as sweat starts to form. I hate sweat, I hate all bodily fluids. But sweat has to be my least favorite. Maybe because it seems to stick to everything it comes in contact with.

Passing over from person to person like some form of horrible illness. Nothing terminal, yet highly annoying.

What was I thinking again? Oh yeah.

We all are a little murderous. And people who say they are not…well let's just say they deserve nothing more but the gum underneath my shoe.

Well, not really, I was saving that to feed to her later.

Anyway… today turned out to actually be quite busy. So many people found it necessary to ruin a perfectly normal day. It was hard to choose the last time. I would've done them all but, well, I forgot my bag. Then this girl showed up, and by far she was the worst.  
"Please…" she begs as I hold up my usual knife. I narrow my eyes. No!  
"Don't you dare." I say in an almost deathly calm tone. "Don't you dare beg for forgiveness after what you did. DON'T YOU DARE!" She shudders and whimpers as more tears start falling.

I pant at the sudden anger rising and falling from me. "It's okay." I hear myself say as I grab her wrist, looking over old scars decorating them. "You can't help it if you're defect. Like a machine can't fix itself when broken. There is no redemption for those broken as deeply as you." And she sobs. Well, at least she's not screaming…like the others.

I shake my head as I tie her wrist into the bonds of the torture equipment. Her soft sobs and gurgles don't hurt my ears like the screams do, yet I find them annoying and so stuff a discarded rag into her mouth.

Crackling my knuckles as I lean back to admire my handiwork.

"Nice…"

She looks at me. Pure horror shimmering there. No longer the hateful pride from before. And I chuckle. "No more. No more of your fake world. No more of your fabricated being. I want to cleanse the world of people like you. O how you defile it like chemical waste. All without reason. 'You' have no reason."

And as the last word leaves my lips I press a button, making blades pierce her arms. Ending up in loud screeching noise from the victim in question. And I would be liar if I told you I didn't enjoy it. Not that I would do that. It would be like I was searching for some sort of redemption. Some atonement for my none existing guilt.

But no, in fact, I think it was only fair after what she did to me…

I look over her. Her screams stifled by the cloth between her teeth. Any other person would feel sorry for this girl. Or at least guilt for doing such a thing. However seeing her like this leaves me with a sick form of enjoyment to linger upon.

Being sick is one thing. Accepting it as being sick is a whole different thing.

Perhaps that's the only thing keeping me from joining those imbeciles in their conformist lives. The fact that I do not deny who or what I am. And the fact that I will not change how I am.

The girl looks at me in the most desperate way. Her eyes begging me the way her voice would like to. And I am more then thankful for the cloth keeping her from doing so. Not that it would change my feelings about doing this. No, mine heart is not an easy one to turn. It would be an annoyance at best. Not that, that would be any less of a hindrance.

It is not often that I can keep myself from delirium long enough to enjoy the road to the final art piece. And as an artist this annoys me. The whole purpose of creating art would be to enjoy the road that leads to the beauty one creates.

"You call this beauty?" I hear Nailbunny whisper. "No, I guess you are right. It has been far to long since I've seen anything worth calling beautiful, let alone create it. Then is this world truly as stained?" "Perhaps it is not the world whom is tainted." I hear one of the doughboys add, a strange sickening sound hidden behind his words. Though I do not care enough to see which of the two it is.

They do not have to remind me. I know of my sickness. My sin. Maybe this is the only feeling of regret I know. Insanity hidden behind my frustration for these voices in my head.

All this inner monologue has taken me out of my concentration and I become bored with this girl. I narrow my eyes and she holds her breath for a moment. The wounds are but superficial, she wouldn't die if I let her to bleed for an hour or so. But I'm not in the mood to go look for someone else. And at this time of day there usually isn't anything to interesting on TV.

I look at her questionably. She doesn't quite know where she stands. It is all written over her face. Even a small flicker of hope shines through the fear. That I'll release her? How quaint.

I get up and let the blade drop to the floor, leaving a hollow echo behind. "I'll see you in a little while." I say as I turn to the stairs. As I take the first few steps her surprise makes room for terror. Her struggling is heard through the rattling of the chains that bind her. The whimpers and sobs to follow. But I do not turn around and follow the steps to an upstairs room.

The bloody wall seems to look on as I pass it as well. Going up another pair of stairs until I reach the main house. Walking up to the CD player I put on Beethoven's Moonlight sonata and take a seat on the old couch. The tattered fabric tearing in some places though I pay it little mind. It is not as if I were to go out and buy a new one.

The sounds of the piano resound through my head and I sigh. A thought arises. Perhaps if I were to paint. It would be a most wonderful turn of events. However the thought is soon set aside as the nagging voices of my delusions remind me of my moment in time. Rattling on about what I'm doing or what I'm supposed to be doing. It is everything but entertaining and most tiring in fact. If I slept, this would have been a time to do so. But as we know, I do not. I wouldn't be able to find the harmony within myself to block them out. No rather leave them fuss about their business and leave me to drift off into inner epilogue.

"Perhaps, I'll go outside later." The voices in my head still for a moment. And before they start their ramble again I conclude my thought. "I would really like to see the stars tonight."

This concludes my JTHM fic. I hope you enjoyed it. )

R/R please?


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